


Learning to be Khaleesi

by sepherim_ml



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones, Barbarian!Jared, Barebacking, Exhibitionism, Lap Sex, M/M, Rough Sex, Younger Jensen, size-difference, virgin!Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepherim_ml/pseuds/sepherim_ml
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Game of Thrones!AU. Jensen's uncle pratically sold him, bartered away in exchange of an army to use in the upcoming invasion of the Islands. His husband is the powerful Khal of the Dothraki tribe, a man he knows nothing about, but, despite the rocky start, Jensen learns slowly how to become a Khaalesi worth of his Jared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning to be Khaleesi

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Jared as Drogo and Jensen as Daenerys for gwen_winchester requested @ the writing meme on LJ.  
> Thanks to jackfan2 for the beta work!

**Complete list of warnings** : RPS AU, barbarian!Jared, virgin!Jensen, crossover with Game of Thrones but no previous knowledge is needed, though this fic can spoil the first episode of the tv-show (Jared as Drogo, Jensen as Daenerys), underage (Jensen is 16-17), size-difference, barebacking, first time, dub-con (at first)/rough sex, lap sex, exhibitionism   
  
  
  
  
Jensen welcomes the sweet taste of wine, feeling the liquid releasing some of the tension of the day. The loud, reverberating sound of the drums hurts his ears, almost as much as the grunting coming from the savage coupling taking place at the edge of the arena.   
  
Jensen looks away, refusing to feel embarrassed in front of that public display, and his eyes land on Jar’d – or ‘Jared’ in the common tongue -, his husband. Not  _husband_  in the way civilized people like Jensen considers a spouse. No ceremony took place; just two men joining hands and a proclamation issued that they belonged together under savage terms of the Dothraki tribe.   
  
Jensen is Jared’s now, his  _bride_ , his possession, and Jensen accepted his destiny with blind anger, frustration, and hopeless resignation.   
  
Like a cow at auction, his uncle Jeffrey practically sold him, bartered away in exchange for an army to use in the upcoming invasion of the Islands. The bride price in his twisted plans of revenge, without care for his only relative’s life; condemning him to a life of slavery under the Khal’s will.   
  
Uncle Jeffrey is gloating at his side, sitting on a throne of rock and soft cushions, smiling indulgently at the crowd and exchanging with Jensen heated looks, reminding him of his new place - be a good bride, be eager to spread his legs and make the Khal happy -. Jensen has always known that Jeffrey, his guardian, would marry him off to anyone that could assure him an army to back his plans, but he hadn’t really counted on the barbaric Dothraki horde being one of his choices.   
  
Jensen didn’t have anything to say in the matter: his uncle chose Jared and the Khal gave his approval after just one brief meeting. With little more than a nod from the Dothraki leader’s head, Jensen’s freedom and free will were taken away without so much as a second thought.   
  
Even seated, Jared is tall, massive and well-muscled. His chest and back are glistering with sweat, his powerful muscles are clenching and unclenching at the minimum movement and Jensen finds the shifting beneath his tanned flesh hypnotic. Elaborate tattoos painted on his chest and abs in blue artistic stripes dance and move with each flex and shift. The inked symbols move again as Jared brings the wine filled horn to his lips and Jensen watches as he drinks and some of the liquid is spilled, running down his throat and his chest.   
  
Despite his anger, Jensen can’t help but feel captivated by the Khal: the aura of power and masculinity, his huge frame, the way he walks and talks, like he is always challenging people, daring them to question his authority.   
  
It was only that morning when Jensen met him for the first time. He’d watched as the Khal sat his horse proudly, strength and confidence rolling of the man in waves. And Jensen was drawn to him; he felt his heart quicken and the blood race through his veins.   
  
Here and now, however, he buries the memory of that first sighting and blames his humiliating state on fear and too much wine, because there is no other excuse for feeling hot and bothered for a barbarian. The thought of consummating of the marriage clears his head, clarifying that Jensen would not have the pleasure to know love anymore; instead, he’d be bound to a companion he knows nothing about.   
  
Overwhelming nerves are winning against the anger and Jensen casts his eyes downward; his right hand starts to shake and he has to put down the wine, careful not to spill it on his pants. The outfit is a wedding gift from Jeffrey. A pair of fine linen pants from the East, white and soft - now dirty with dust -; the last piece of clothing that he will be allowed to wear within the Dothraki tribe. After tonight, he’ll be relegated to wearing the same fabric and style of clothing as those of all the Dothraki savages; more practical for long hours atop a horse, but definitely less comfortable and refined. Unclothed from the waist up, his bare chest is pale and red under the sun. It glistens with sandalwood oil, and he definitely stands out from the rest of the horde, with their honey and dark skin, fearsome tattoos and scars running over their bodies.   
  
Jared’s head turns towards him and hazel, cat-like eyes stare at him and Jensen swallows at the lust and hunger in them. All too soon, the Dothraki leader offers his calloused hand palm up and the indication is clear to Jensen and the rest of the Dothraki. The drums stop beating and all eyes focus their attention on the couple, waiting. Jensen licks his dried lips and takes Jared’s hand, half-shaking.   
  
Jared stands and when Jensen finds his legs won’t bulge, Jared forces Jensen to his feet. Then, with little more than a grunt, he’s dragging Jensen across the arena, towards a white mare clearly destined for him. He gestures to the animal and offers some barely intelligible words that resemble ‘gift to bride’ in his deep and rugged voice. Three stupid words, but in Jensen’s language.   
  
The Khal clearly put forth the effort to learn at least few words in Jensen’s tongue and despite himself, Jensen is moved. It was definitely not something he’d expected from a barbarian. "Thank you. She is beautiful."   
  
Jared nods, probably understanding, and motions Jensen to mount. Once Jensen is seated, he moves with amazing grace for one so large, and mounts his own stallion, a black beast that is, like Jared, powerful and massive, yet graceful and confident.   
  
The ride is part of the ritual, Jensen knows that from Danneel, the Dothraki slave appointed to his service; she’d been charged with prepping him for the wedding, so he grabs his reins and urges the mare to gallop with a powerful kick of his heels into the breast side. The mare lurches forward and soon they’re flying effortlessly away, speeding, fast as the North Wind, as far and as fast as she can carry him from his destined companion, towards the freedom Jensen no longer has. After a few miles, the mare starts to tire allowing the Khal’s stallion to catch them: the warrior lines up with him, his back arched, ready to jump, but Jensen notices that too late.   
  
They fall heavily on the ground and Jared easily pins Jensen down, heedless of the rocks, the sand and the mud. He says something in his barbaric language as he manhandles his bride, still dazed from the fall, up onto his hands and knees before moving around behind him. The Khal tears the linen, exposing Jensen’s back and manhood, he cups his cock and spits on his finger, putting it roughly inside Jensen with no warning.   
  
Jensen bites his bottom lip, trying not to vocalize his discomfort, but the huge finger is shoved so deeply into his virgin hole and with so little care that he sinks on his hands, a long and pained sound escaping between his gritted teeth. This seems to halt Jared’s assault; after a beat he starts again, only this time, he uses more care and less violence and Jensen can breathe again. The Khal’s other hand wraps around and begins caressing Jensen’s chest, a reverent touch as if he’s amazed at the softness of his bride’s skin. The large calloused hand stops at Jensen’s the nipple and begins twisting and tugging it between thumb and index finger. Despite the humiliation, Jensen starts to feel aroused by Jared’s attentions and moans unintentionally.   
  
Jared keeps tugging the delicate nub between the tips of his fingers, sensually, circling the nipple while he puts another finger inside Jensen; the two fingers begin scissoring him, easing the way for the mating. Jensen’s knees start to burn and he bends more under Jared’s massive body and weight, his cock rousing as his hole quivers against the rough fingers. Startled and humiliated at his body’s reactions, Jensen tries to squirm away, to cover his exposed, half-hard manhood that seeks to humiliate him further, but to no avail. A muscled arm wraps around Jensen’s waist as the fingers in his ass continue their plundering. Jared’s hold on him is decisive and sure.   
  
In an attempt to swallow down his sounds of pleasure, Jensen bites his bottom lip harder, but he gives up as the skilled fingers scissoring him being stroking and hit the secret button inside, touching him where no-one ever touched him. A spark passes through his body and he starts shaking, feeling hot like he never has before.   
  
While his mind is screaming for him to fight and run, his body instinctively opens up and pushes back, meeting Jared’s fingers, rocking against them. Jared seems pleased at his reaction and he caresses the stretched rim with his thumb, tracing the plugged hole. Moaning helplessly, Jensen pushes back harder, grinding into the strokes, thrusting his ass towards him.   
  
Jared pulls out so suddenly Jensen’s at a loss, achingly for the sensations he now craves. But there’s a rustling of clothes and soon Jensen cries out loud as Jared’s cock penetrates him in one long push. The pain dims his pleasure and Jensen is struggling to escape from the binding cage of Jared’s arms. The Khal stills, he passes an arm around Jensen’s middle, holding him in place, and starts pumping Jensen’s semi-soft cock with his other hand. He caresses the tip with his thumb, until Jensen’s body starts to relax, no longer fearful of being split open and adjusts to the new intrusion. Tears of humiliation trail down along his cheeks and Jared groans. He forces Jensen’s head to turn toward him, his hazel eyes darkened, forehead frowned and displeasure written all over his face.   
  
"Don’t," he snarls, drying Jensen’s tears with his rough hands. "Don’t."   
  
In other circumstances, Jensen would have laughed at this hypocrisy – a few tears are nothing compared to what the Khal is doing to him, especially concerning rape -, but there is something in the Khal’s eyes that Jensen can’t quite grasp. When Jared’s thumb caresses his jaw, grabbing his chin and tilting his head to the side to claim his lips, there is something soft in his expression.   
  
This isn’t Jensen’s first kiss, but it certainly isn’t  _just_  a kiss, more a claiming, an act of possession and despite everything, Jensen kinda of melts in that intimate and passionate gesture. Jared’s lips are dry, but his tongue is hot when it makes contact, so tempting and he finds himself reciprocating ad the barbarian digs into his velvety mouth. Their tongues dance and tangle, the bittersweet taste of the wine and something all Jared’s are almost addictive. Jensen can still feel him inside, his hardness stretching and filling him so good, that he needs him to thrust, to fuck him.   
  
Lips still sealed to Jared’s mouth, Jensen emits a low moan and Jared takes it as the clear invitation and pulls out until he’s almost free from Jensen’s hole. Then, he pushes in, even deeper, and, gods, Jensen feels every single inch of his husband’s cock inside him. The Khal is whispering something in his language against his lips, something rough words that Jensen doesn’t want to understand and the Khal speeds the rhythm of his thrusts, stealing Jensen’s breath at every thrust.   
  
The pleasure starts ripping through Jensen’s body, and he finds himself moaning and groaning as loudly Jared’s grunts gain volume. Breaking the kiss, he falls into his elbows and Jared takes advantage of his new position to place both hands on Jensen’s hips and fucks into him harder, pounding directly on his sweet spot from a different angle, until something explodes inside Jensen and he blacks out, coming with a long and high-pitched scream.   
  
Jensen comes too and realizes he’s being held on his knees, propped up by Jared’s hands digging into his hips to keep him there. He’s breathing heavily, shivering as Jared’s thrusts break tempo and he slams in and stills; the barbarian’s cock pulses as stream after stream of his release spurts inside him. The Khal’s spent cock withdraws, leaving Jensen’s hole empty and quivering, missing the hardness that made him scream in pleasure, but somewhat reassured by the come that started to ooze along his inner thighs.   
  
Jared’s grip on his hips relaxes and, utterly exhausted, Jensen’s rolls to his side. He should get up, try to find the rest of his shredded clothes, but he can’t regain enough strength to actually move from that debauched position.   
  
Somewhere behind him, Jared is still there, breathing hard, looming over him, but Jensen decides to focus his attention elsewhere, to the ground. He did it, he consummated his marriage and Jeffrey should be happy that Jensen has finally done something for his family, but all he can feel is a deep sense of humiliation at how much pleasure he took from the coupling. The frightening warnings Jeffrey had given him that morning about his new position as the Khal’s whore, still ring in his ears. Now that they are actually revealed as true as Jensen is lying on the ground after his first night, married to a man he knows about and who lingers above him. But, gods, he liked it.   
  
A finger traces the line of his shoulders, then his clavicle, until a powerful hand hooks up with Jensen’s shoulder, forcing him to roll over to his back, facing Jared. The motion startles a yelp from Jensen, but apart from that, he stays still, finally taking a good look at the glorious naked body of the other man; Jared too is taking his fill, his eyes roving over him.   
  
Once more, Jensen is surprised at how soft his eyes have gone, not enraged as his large hands frame his face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones. He’s inspecting him and Jensen stares back, at Jared’s hazel eyes, his ruffled hair, his stubble, basking in his husband’s attentions. Slowly, Jared shifts his position, until he’s resting on his left elbow, his right hand still caressing Jensen’s face, their naked bodies touching, hot and sated.   
  
"Beautiful."   
  
Jensen received a lot of compliments in the past about his physical appearance, but nothing had made him blush. Maybe it’s because of Jared’s possessive look, or his big hand is lingering on his shoulder and trailing along his neck, his jaw, his cheek in such a sensual way. The tribal leader’s eyes are still glimmering with lust, but there is a something different there. Jensen hasn’t grown up with hopeless dreams of love; his wildest fantasy involves growing to love his promised spouse and taking the good from their marriage: when Jeffrey had announced his intent to give him to the ruthless leader of the Dothraki tribe, Jensen had been sure that the arrangement will bring him nothing but bitter sadness. Instead, looking at Jared’s expression, he feels something warm inside his chest. It’s not love or affection, but hope that maybe, just maybe, if Jensen can adapt, if Jared won’t be the wild savage he was believed to be, he can find a place in the world.   
  
"You have spots. Lots of spots," Jared grunts, his deep voice almost biting the words in Jensen’s foreign language.   
  
At first, Jensen doesn’t understand, he doesn’t even know what he is supposed to say, and then he realizes. "Freckles," he whispers back.   
  
"Freckles," repeats Jared after a while. The tip of his index finger touches Jensen’s plump lips, clearly amazed by the softness. "Beautiful. Mine."   
  
The Khal moves suddenly, gripping his bride’s hip so hard that Jensen knows that the in few hours there will be finger-shaped bruises all over his flesh. His spouse then covers him with his body, their chests touching and scratching together in such an intense friction that Jensen once again feels the heat in his belly. The kiss is sudden, but Jensen opens his lips, welcoming Jared’s tongue, moaning softly when his husband takes control and ravishes his mouth.   
  
Jensen fears a second coupling, knowing there will be intense pain against his recently breached ass, but Jared is content to kiss him instead. He engulfs him in his arms, whispering something in Dothraki from time to time until Jensen falls asleep.   
  
  
  
***   
  
  
  
The heat of the desert is suffocating and Jensen is finding it difficult to adapt to his new life. His lips are chapped and he’s coughing dust for most of the day, his hair is longer than before, ruffled from the wind and coated with dust. His hands are more calloused, but not scarred, as Jared has gifted him with leather gloves that leave the fingers free but protects the palms. His legs hurt like crazy, when Jensen gets off his mare and walks on own two feet.   
  
The Dothraki tribe is nomadic and they spend all day riding with their horses and Jensen is not used to this; every night he dismounts and he barely manages to make it to the tent he shares with Jared before collapsing. Legs cramping in pain, he lays there letting Danneel massage his sore muscles and, when the opportunity arises, bathing him with warm soapy water. Jensen’s sunburn is fading, leaving his fair skin tan, kissed by the sun and his hair blonder than before, and Jared seems quite fond of his task to find new freckles on his skin and on his face. He spots them like a kid who is fascinated with new things, tracing them with the tip of his index finger kissing them, one by one, until Jensen is squirming under him, hard for his husband.   
  
The life is not simple, moving miles every day through deserts and rare oasis, and Jensen misses his hot, long baths, the soft fabrics of his older clothes and the smell of the parchment of his uncle’s library. Danneel is teaching him the rudiments of the Dothraki language and Jensen finds it fascinating, even though difficult, with all their strange and harsh sounds, but he’s making the effort, especially as sharing a language with his husband would make the communicating easier.   
  
The Khal is imposing and rides proud on his black stallion, his long ruffling hair is a nest of knots and sometimes, in the quiet solitude of their tent, Jensen has to resist from passing a hand through them and disentangle them gently. His well-built body, his strength and his impressive stance combine to push buttons in Jensen’s head that he never thought he had.   
  
Sometimes they ride side by side, sometimes the sun is too hot and Jensen’s lagging behind and Jared heads the column. This leaves Jensen to a steadier pace, tagging along with the carriages and the refurbishments.   
  
The Khal is touching him every chance he gets, except during the meetings with his warriors. During those times, Jensen can only sit at his left side - the traditional position of a bride in order to leave the Khal’s sword arm free if he needs to draw out his weapon - and speak only if there are questions regarding refurbishments and logistics. Jared is quite fond of lifting him and placing him on his lap, where Jensen feels dwarfed by his husband’s presence; wrapped in his embrace. They watch their people singing and dancing in front of the fires. Snuggled together, Jared fondles through his clothes, shameless, until Jensen buries his face in his husband’s neck, turned on, and the Khal brings him to the privacy of their tent.   
  
Their couplings are a nightly occurrence, the sex hard and wild like the first time but now, there’s a subtle sweetness that makes Jensen melt in his husband’s embrace. He enjoys it, but there is still shame in the position he’s bound to keep, on all four like a bitch, or like one of the Dothraki mares being mounted by her stallion. So far, Jared is always holding him down and pounding into him from behind, and Jensen likes that, he really does, but when he is sated, lying, encircled in Jared’s strong arms, he wonders if the joy he takes from the couplings makes him a worse human for receiving pleasure to be treated like a slave.   
  
  
  
***   
  
  
  
"Are you fine, Khaleesi?" Danneel asks worried, when Jensen’s shoulders are slumping from exhaustion. ‘Khaleesi’ is meant to designate the Khal’s bride, or his mate, that is, and Jensen is still not quite used to it.   
  
"I’m fine, Danneel," he answers, looking down to the woman slave, walking next to his mare. He passes a hand on his brow, cleaning away the sweat.   
  
"We can slow down," Danneel proposes, still looking preoccupied. "Just command it, Khaleesi."   
  
Jensen grimaces and refuses to answer, frustrated. He ate very poorly that morning, still unaccustomed to the horde’s food habits and the sun is high, drilling his head, but as much as he feels exhausted he hates to show his weakness to the people he is supposed to command.   
  
He looks at the head of the column, where the horizon is mingling with the sky and spots the Khal with his most trusted warriors, or, at least, their dark shapes. Jensen isn’t thinking about his lineage or who he can be if his uncle makes a move across the Narrow Sea, de-throne the current King, but the difference between the man he can be and the one he still is.   
  
He’s still looking Jared’s direction, when he starts falling from his saddle. A sharp cry comes from Danneel, but Jensen never makes it to the ground, an arm grips his and supports him. Jensen looks up and one of the warriors - his name could be Chris in the common tongue, Jensen can guess - is helping him, with a frown upon his face and his blue eyes narrowed. He sits up, grasping the reins and nods a quickly thank you to Chris’ direction.   
  
"Khaleesi! Watch out, Khal won’t be pleased if you fall!" The first words Jensen ever heard from the warrior, in the common tongue, with a rusty pronunciation.   
  
Danneel hovers under him, her eyes full of worry and fear. "Khaleesi!"   
  
It hasn’t occurred to him before, but these people are looking at him, at his position besides the Khal. There is open concern in their expressions and the way some of the slaves and warriors are looking at him now, the way Danneel and Chris jumped at his assistance is something Jensen never thought he would get. This isn’t trust, of course, more fear of the Khal, but Jensen himself has done nothing to earn trust or to stake his true position among them.   
  
"Pass me some dried meat, Danneel," he says with gentle but firm voice. "Then we will catch up with the rest."   
  
  
  
***   
  
  
  
The Khal drops the flap of the tent and enters, still clothed in his riding gear. Jensen looks at him from the bed, through his long lashes, following his husband’s movements intently as he puts his weapons on the nearest table and takes off his pants and boots before approaching him. He kneels in front of him and Jensen surges to meet his lips halfway, moaning in delight when Jared pulls him against his chest, his hands caressing his back before then palming his naked ass. Jensen undressed himself completely that night before sliding under the skins and wools, preparing himself with his fingers and the salve Danneel gave to him, with a plan in mind to bring pleasure to the Khal.   
  
Jared grunts and chuckles darkly, clearly pleased at his husband’s eagerness, slapping his ass in an obviously playful manner. The sharp blows makes Jensen jump and writhe, tensing with excitement, but when Jared tries to push him onto his knees and hands, Jensen grabs his arms, blocking him.   
  
"No," Jensen says sternly. Jared shoots him a confused look, sets his jaw and pushes again, but the Khaleesi has other plans. "No, Jared. Tonight we’ll do it in my way." He doesn’t know if Jared understands him or not, so he repeats it in Dothraki, confusing a couple of words. "I’ll ride you, my stallion," he finishes, blushing a little at the explanation. It’s enough to have Jared now looking at him with curiosity and want.   
  
Jensen takes a deep breath and puts his hands on Jared’s face, framing his cheeks, pushing aside his indecision, trying to remember what Danneel taught him. He kisses his husband again, pouring his lust and heart into the kiss, mapping Jared’s mouth with his tongue, making him understand how much Jared now mean to him, despite their assumptions. This is his husband, this is the Khal and Jensen is his bride, his husband, the person who will lead the khalasar – not horde, these are his people now - with. He is now fully prepared to accept his role and not act like a slave. Danneel had looked at him when she’d straddled him over his clothes, teaching him how to make love as a conqueror, rather than taking it as a slave, and approves his intentions. She called him ‘Khaleesi’ with pride, now.   
  
He doesn’t dare to push Jared down onto the skins and mount him, so he moves Jared into a sitting position, placing his hands on his thighs and then positioning his hole on Jared’s already hard manhood. Despite the earlier preparation, Jensen feels a slight burn inside as he impales himself on Jared’s cock, but he refuses to let this ruin the moment. He looks at his husband’s eyes, watching every single change in his expression – confusion, surprise, naked lust – and he greets the moment of the acknowledgement, when Jared closes his eyes for a moment and his mouth drops open, slack, caught in a silent moan as he’s buried deep inside Jensen.   
  
The sensation of power is strong and Jensen basks in it, remaining still, feeling every inch of his husband’s long cock, the lust and pleasure written on Jared’s face now.   
  
"Jensen," he grunts and wraps his arms around Jensen, then places his hands on the hips, scraping Jensen’s skin with his nails. "Mine."   
  
"Yours."   
  
Jensen gasps as he rides his cock, thrusting up and down, first gently, then harder and harder, never looking away. Hips undulating, he changes the angle, riding him like he rides a stallion, heedless of the increasing moans of pleasure that escape from his lips. Anyone passing by their tent would see the shadows created by the torches and hear the sound of their coupling; before and despite having being there with Jared for more than a moon and the numerous times Jared had groped him whenever he could, Jensen usually felt unsure about being on display. Tonight, however, he doesn’t slow down, he doesn’t stop, he grits his teeth and enjoys the possibility of being seen and heard riding the powerful Khal.   
  
He groans in pleasure when Jared meets his thrusts, lifting his hips, increasing the rhythm of their fucking, and Jensen doesn’t last long before spilling his seed between their stomachs. Jensen’s clenching walls squeeze Jared’s cock and the pressure push the Khal over the edge and he comes after a few more thrusts.   
  
When they can breathe again, think again, Jared moves first and with more gentleness than he’s ever used before, he lays Jensen down on the skins and the cushions. He does all of it without pulling out and Jensen gasps as the feel the hot come is squishing inside, prevented from spilling out and onto the bed where Jared’s still half-hard cock blocks the way.   
  
The Khal rests on his hands, nuzzling at Jensen’s neck and throat, rubbing his belly and abs against Jensen’s spent and wet cock. He begins to thrust again in him, every time pounding on Jensen’s sweet spot and the Khaleesi wraps his legs around Jared instinctively, wanting nothing more than receive his release again. When Jared climaxes again at the same time as Jensen, he pushes away and Jensen’s mourns the spilled come that dribbles from his hole. He wants nothing more than to plug it inside him again and hope that can stay there forever, in a never-ending sign of claim and possession, as a reminder that he belongs to Khal Jared and him alone.   
  
"Jensen. My moon."   
  
Jensen smiles in contentment, and kisses him. "Jared. My sun."   
  
Jared moves Jensen to have his cheek rest on his chest, their legs intertwined and his lips kissing Jensen’s forehead and temple. "Mine."   
  
It would be easy, in the morning, to ask him to learn how to fight for him, how to become a warrior and be true part of the Dothraki clan, but Jensen closes his eyes, basking in the attentions and love of his husband and sighs in delight.


End file.
